The Silver Pear by Michelle Diener Page A

send his men more than a few miles out to search for her. The roads might be the better bet.
    “Soren.” Her voice was swallowed up by the trees, dissipating in the air like steam from a kettle, and he didn’t even slow down. She tried to quicken her pace, to catch up to him, but he seemed always just too far out of her reach.
    Frustration rose in her, and she realized he had everything; their food, their water, their bedrolls. If she lost him, she’d be left with nothing.
    She began to run, even though it went against her instincts the closer they got to the outer edge of the Klevan forest. She could feel it, a heavy, waiting atmosphere, the power of the Great Forest biding its time patiently.
    It worked on her nerves. Every rustle in the undergrowth had her heart hammering in her chest.
    Soren seemed oblivious. He was far ahead now, his broad shoulders brushing the bush on either side of the path as he went.
    Just when she thought she would collapse with the heat, would have to let him go and wait for him to realize he had left her behind, a cool breeze sprung up, bringing the scent of pine and water.
    Then Soren leaped over a small stream that cut across the path, and as he jumped, a terrible chill ran through her, and she knew he’d stepped over the border.
    Panic-stricken at the thought of losing him, she ran full tilt until she reached the stream; but it was ordinary, shallow, nothing but clear water tumbling over rocks. She stared at it, then looked across it down the path for him.
    He was gone.
    She teetered on the slick, wet stone at the edge of the stream. She had to make a choice.
    Leave him to go his own way, turn back and take the roads, or follow him into the Great Forest. It had claimed her father, or something in it had, but it would be the fastest way to Jerat, the fastest way to find Garth and hopefully the silver pear.
    Her father had shielded her, protected her even from her own magic by giving her the silver pear. But her father was gone, and she no longer had a safe place with William.
    He had betrayed her, and the world had changed. She didn’t have the luxury of indecision any more.
    She looked over her shoulder down the path they’d taken from Halakan, took a deep breath, looked forward, and leaped.
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    S oren knew the moment he’d stepped into the Great Forest. He and Rane, and his father when he was still alive, had spent their lives winding in and out of it. Trying to stay as much as possible in Therston’s tamer woods, but often finding themselves forced into the Great Forest itself.
    There was a quality of silence to it, even though there were sounds aplenty. It made no sense, but the rustle of leaves, the wind in the branches, somehow seemed clearer here, as if there were no other noises drowning them out.
    It reminded him that he should be hearing at least one other sound, the footsteps of Mirabelle following behind him, and he suddenly realized he hadn’t looked back to check on her in a long time.
    Too long on his own.
    He wasn’t in the habit of looking after anyone but himself.
    He stopped, turned back, the packs on his back bumping and swinging, and found nothing but empty wood.
    He cursed. Himself, and her.
    Why hadn’t she called out to him to slow down?
    On a sigh, he headed back, and frowned. He thought he wasn’t far from the stream he’d jumped over, it felt as if only a minute or so had passed since then, but when he rounded the corner, the path stretched out, empty and with no stream in sight.
    He was sure it should be there. He felt the tingle at the base of his skull he always did when wild magic was at work, and sped up.
    “Mirabelle.” He called her name loudly, but it was as if he were in a strange chamber that sucked sound away.
    At the next corner, surely, he would find the stream, but it wasn’t there, and he began to run in earnest.
    He heard something, slowed down, and tried to quiet his breathing, listening, and was sure it was the gurgle of water over